Home is Where the Heart Is
by tartan-angel
Summary: Another Harry escapes the Dursleys fic! I hope you enjoy this! Please leave a review.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I own nothing... blah de blah blah blah! ONWARDS!!_

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

Chapter One: Appearances can be deceiving. 

That was IT! Harry had finally had enough. He could feel the blood in his body boiling and the anger that had been accumulating within him was just about ready to burst out in a devastating eruption. And it did.

As he rushed for the front door in a blind rage, his only thought was to get out of that house. To get out of Privet Drive. To get away. He could barely make sense of Uncle Vernon's booming yells. He could barely hear Aunt Petunia's shrill voice commanding that he "come back this instant!". He could barely notice Dudley plodding down the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. He just needed to get out, to finally breathe.

He slammed the door behind him and strode down the garden path as quickly as he could. He just turned in any direction that took his eye, not really stopping to care about his destination. If he were incredibly lucky, which he never really had been, he might never have to see the Dursley's faces ever again. It was that thought which flooded him with a warmth contrasting the oddly biting frosty wind (for it was mid-August. Why hadn't he grabbed his jacket on the way out?).

That was, until he remembered; he had no place to go, the Dursleys had been a last resort. There was no-one. Unless… It struck him. _Mrs Figg!!_ Sure, she was a squib, but she could help him find someone from the Order or even Dumbledore himself!

Harry looked around; fortunately, he had been walking towards Magnolia Crescent which, luckily, wasn't too far from her house. He sped back towards the home of the batty old cat lady (which he had spent most of his childhood wishing that he could avoid) and just hoped that she would be ale to help him. As soon as he got there, he thumped hard on the door, through the cries of "Alright, keep your hair on!" and was relieved when Mrs Figg, accompanied by three of her cats (Mr Sniffles, or whatever she called him, being one of them) swung the door open.

"Oh, Harry, dear, what ever is the matter?" she asked concernedly.

"Mrs Figg, I need your help. Can I come in?"

"Of course, dear." Harry stepped into the house and was immediately confronted by the smell of cat hair mingled with shortbread. Mrs Figg offered him some tea and, when she returned from the kitchen, said:

"Now, Harry, what is it you needed me for?" Harry looked at all the pictures of Mrs Figg's various cats and avoided her gaze before he spoke.

"I need to get out of here," he explained simply, though his tone was full of venom.

"What do you mean?"

"If I stay with the Dursleys much longer, I'm going to seriously lose control of my magic and it'll end up worse than blowing up an aunt. I need to go. Anywhere."

"Are you sure about that, Harry?"

"Absolutely," he had spent more than enough time going over it in his head.

"And where do you suppose you'll stay?" That, he hadn't thought about. Where could he go?

"I suppose I could stay at Hogwarts, if Professor Dumbledore wouldn't mind," he suggested.

"I doubt that, not even the teachers stay at Hogwarts through the summer. What can I help you with, though?"

"I just wondered whether you could contact someone from the Order and tell them that I've left the Dursleys'. I can go to the Leaky Cauldron if none of them can make it-"

"Nonsense!" she cut in sharply. "I won't have you staying there when I can get someone round here. Why, you could even stay here, if needs be."

"Thanks, Mrs Figg."

"Don't mention it. Now, I could write a letter for you but that would take a while to get there. Hold on a second, I think Minerva gave me some Floo Powder to contact them with."

"You know Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked while Mrs Figg began rooting around in the cupboard by her armchair.

"Don't be so dull, boy, we're both in the Order of the Phoenix," Harry then realised that it had been a rather stupid question indeed, "besides, she's my cousin." It was all Harry could do to stop himself from spitting out his tea.

They remained in an awkward silence for a while, before the old lady finally said: "Aha! Got it!"

She pulled out a little red bag with a glistening string holding the top closed. Mrs Figg looked at Harry.

"Do you want to do it or shall I?" Harry's mind wandered back to his previous use of Floo Powder. Definitely not!

"Um, no thanks."

"Okay then." She threw a pinch of grey powder into the fireplace as the flames flickered an emerald green colour. Harry found it rather odd watching Mrs Figg stick just her head into the flames and call about inside it: "Hello? Is anyone there? HELLO?"

After a moment, another voice became apparent to Harry's ears.

"Yes, Arabella, what is it?" It was Professor McGonagall, his Head of House. He was not optimistic as to her reaction.

"I have young Harry here and he needs to talk with you." Mrs Figg said as Harry became increasingly embarrassed.

"Is he alright? I tell you what, I'll be right over." Harry was just about to protest before Mrs Figg withdrew her face from the fire and, hardly a second later, Minerva McGonagall stepped out from the ashes. When she said she would be right over, she wasn't kidding. She wore a dark purple pencil skirt and a white shirt, as if she were a Muggle businesswoman. As soon as she clapped eyes on Harry, her face paled and was overcome by a look of… was that concern?

"Harry, are you okay? You're not hurt are you?"

"N-no, Professor," he replied, overwhelmed by the change in his Transfiguration Professor.

"What's the matter Harry? Where are the Dursleys?"

"They're in their house," this caused her to look slightly confused. "I ran away." He offered by way of explanation. Professor McGonagall looked back into his eyes. Harry was expecting an explosion from her part but he was sorely mistaken.

"Where are headed to Harry?" she asked.

"I don't know. I could just go to the Leaky Cauldron or -"

"Wrong," she interrupted, "you're coming with me. No arguments."

"Professor, really, you don't need to do that."

"I know," she sighed. "But I want to."

Harry smiled at his teacher and, wondering why she hadn't questioned him as to why he had fled his guardians' home, thanked her somewhat timidly.

"Professor?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Where exactly are we going?"

"You'll be coming to my home up in Scotland. That is, if you don't have any objections."

"Of course not, Professor." Harry smiled.

"Now, Arabella, before we leave, any chance of a cup of tea?" Professor McGonagall asked slyly.

Mrs Figg chuckled and bustled off into the kitchen to put the kettle on once again. "How was your meeting with Bumbling Mr Fudge, Minerva?"

"Excruciating! Honestly, I don't see why they have to put us through that torture year after year. And Merlin knows why we have to meet in a Muggle café, of all places. 'Yearly review' my arse."

Harry was shocked to hear his esteemed Professor talk like that and, if he was honest, he was still wondering why on earth she would want to take him in.

"Sorry about her, Harry," called Mrs Figg from the little kitchen, "she's always like this. There's no stopping her. Believe me, I've tried!"

They carried on in this joking fashion while the two ladies drank their tea and Harry began to feel quite comfortable. He didn't say much, he was too interested in the two women sat beside him. Neither of them were what they seemed; Mrs Figg was not as batty as she had always seemed and Professor McGonagall wasn't the strict intimidating person that she was at school (and Harry could have sworn that, despite the fact she was wearing high heels, she was a good shorter than she appeared at Hogwarts. But that could just have been his eyes).

Before Harry knew it, they were ready to go and were bidding Mrs Figg goodbye.

"I think a portkey would be better for us. It seems we share a common disliking of the Floo network."

Wondering how she knew that, Harry held onto the fountain pen they were using for transportation. With a whoosh and a pulling feeling behind the navel, they were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry, I forgot to clarify, this takes place in the summer between Harry's fifth and sixth year._

Chapter Two: A Brand New Home

When the whirlpool of blurred colours from objects he couldn't quite make out ended, Harry found himself standing in the middle of a vast sheet of short, rich green grass. For a moment, Harry thought that he had ended up in Little Whinging and the houses had just disappeared. He looked to his companion and saw that she was watching her wand spin around on her palm. Harry watched too, perplexed, until the wand settled to point just behind them.

"Okay then, Harry, it's just a short walk from here. That's not a problem, is it?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"No, Professor."

"You can call me Minerva… only if you feel comfortable, of course."

"Thank you… Minerva." Her face lit up with a smile, the likes of which Harry had never seen on her face. They had hardly started walking when the pair began to feel cold rain droplets pattering on their faces and arms.

"Oh shoot. We could Apparate the rest of the way," Minerva suggested. Then, seeing the look on Harry's face, added: "But where's the fun in that? I have a better idea. _Accio broomsticks!_" The weight on Harry's shoulders suddenly lifted as two sleek-handled brooms raced towards them. They vaguely reminded him of his Firebolt with their neat clipped twigs and shiny handles. Seeing the look of awe on Harry's face, Minerva said:

"Firebolt Mark Two. I have twin brothers who own a chain of Quidditch Supplies Stores. Amazing the things you get from being a shareholder. You are okay with flying, right? Not afraid to be shown up by your old Transfiguration Professor, are you?" she winked.

"You wish," Harry joked.

"Now that sounds like a challenge, Potter."

They raced all the way back to the house, the brisk breeze whipping at their cheeks, but Harry almost fell off his broom when he saw the… well, it was more of a manor than a house. Before them was a huge stately home with ivy crawling up the face and gaping windows shining on its granite face. It looked like something from an old fairytale (not that Harry liked fairytales, of course).

"Y-you live here?" Harry asked, wondering how one person could want quite so much space.

"No, I live in the stables out back," she joked. "Of course I live here!"

When they finally reached the front doors, Minerva stopped him.

"Do you have any things with you, Harry?"

"No, I left it all at the Dursleys'." He replied simply.

"No matter, I shall go and collect it later for you. And, Harry, I must tell you that there is only one rule in my house." This was what Harry had been dreading. "That is that there will be absolutely NO growing up. That's what school is for. As long as you get all of your homework done, you can do as you please, within reason, of course." Harry was astonished; he had never been so free in his life. Except, perhaps, at Hogwarts. "And I promise you that you will be safe here; there have been special wards up here for years and they've never failed before. Oh, look, it seems you have a rather intelligent owl, Mr Potter."

Hedwig had just landed right on Harry's shoulder. "Yeah, so I'm told." Harry was so pleased to be away from the Dursleys that his mind was so carefree he almost didn't notice what happened next.

The front doors opened into a large hallway with wooden floors and light blue walls, which were lined with all sorts of portraits that were all waving at him, but it was not this that caught Harry's eye. Before he had a chance to question his teacher about her readiness to take him in, she was bombarded by a small blur of colour that almost knocked her over.

"Oh, honestly, Lizzy!" Minerva cried. Wrapped around her left leg was a small child with dark brown hair and an impish face. She was wearing a bright pink summer dress and looked to be about four years old. The little girl looked up at Harry who smiled back.

"Granny, can we finish the story now?" she asked.

"Of course, just give me a minute. Is your mummy around anywhere?"

"Mummy's in the living room." The child replied sweetly.

"Well, I tell you what, go and fetch Lola and we'll start reading, okay?"

"Okay, Granny. LOLA!!" Little Lizzy relinquished her grandmother's leg and ran out the other end of the hall shouting. Harry was, to say the least, quite taken aback. He had never imagined any of his teachers having lives outside of Hogwarts, let alone their families.

"Mother? Are you back?" called a voice from a room leading off to the right. A second later a raven-haired woman with a slim frame appeared in the hallway. Her face lit up as she saw the two who hadn't even made it through the hallway yet. She wore dark jeans and a purple t-shirt with a curious flowery design creeping up one side. Her eyes were the most enticing shade of amber (if that were even possible).

"Aylie, this is Harry Potter. Harry, meet my daughter, Aylish." Minerva said politely.

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said, shaking the woman's delicate hand.

"Ditto," Aylish replied. "Mum, you haven't seen Jack on your travels, have you?"

"No, sorry, love. He's probably in the drawing room… Oh, scratch that, here he is." At that moment, a boy of about fifteen walked into the hallway. He seemed to be an average teenage boy with bright green eyes and a pale complexion.

"Jack, where have you been?" Aylish inquired.

"Looking over those books Gran gave me," he explained shortly.

"So, how are you getting on with the Spanish?" Minerva asked.

"Fui a España, con mi madre, el año pasado. Me lo pasé mal porque lloivó mucho y fue muy aburrido pero visité el centro del cuidad. Me gust ir de compras. También, visité la montaña, donde monté en bicicleta." The boy said confidently.

"Jack, really, everything is boring to you!" Minerva scolded. If he told the truth, it all sounded like gibberish to Harry and he couldn't make heads nor tails of it.

"Care to elaborate, Mother?" Aylish said quickly. Harry was secretly glad that he didn't have to ask its meaning.

"Jack said: 'I went to Spain, with my mother, last year. I had a bad time because it rained a lot and it was very boring but I visited the city centre. I like to go shopping. Also, I visited the mountains where I rode my bicycle.' You're doing well, Jack."

Aylish turned to Harry, smiling and shaking her head full of ebony waves. "You'll talk to me in English, won't you? I mean, with these two, every other word is in another language. Are you hungry, Harry?"

"No, I'm fine thanks."

"Wise choice, Mum's a terrible cook." Jack said, extending his hand. "Jack Mason. What's up?"

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, shaking the boy's hand. (Jack ignored his mother saying "Jack, honestly, where are your manners?")

Just then Lizzy returned to the hallway with another girl who looked around seven or eight years old. This, Harry thought, must be Lola. She also had dark hair and wore a black skirt and shirt. She looked up at Harry with wonder for a moment and then said shyly:

"H-hello."

"Hello there," Harry greeted as softly as he could manage.

"Harry, this is Lola; the last of my little monsters," said Aylish.

"Well, what are we all doing out here? Aylish, will you show Harry to his room please? Do make yourself at home. Now, girls, what will it be today? Fighting pirates with Peter Pan?" Minerva asked playfully.

"Alice in Wonderland," both girls replied simultaneously. Minerva chuckled and took the two into the living room with Jack in close pursuit. Aylish turned to Harry.

"Ready to see your room now, Mr Potter?"


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Seriously, don't review a story if you have nothing pleasant or constructive to say to help a writer improve!!_

Chapter Three: Nuts?

Harry followed Aylish as she glided serenely through the massive manor. The silence bearing over them was only punctuated by the odd question like "How's school?" and "How do you like the house?". It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, it was just that he really had too many questions to ask them all today.

Finally, they came to a halt in front of a large mahogany door. Aylish turned around to face Harry and said:

"Okay, Harry, I believe it may need a bit of decoration so, will you give me a minute?"

"Sure," Harry replied, astonished that anyone would even want to make things right for him. Nobody had before now.

Aylish went inside and closed the door tight behind her. Harry waited outside for a while. Aylish kept sporadically popping her head out of the door asking things like "What was your favourite colour again?", "What Quidditch team do you support?" and, when Harry told her of Ron's Quidditch obsession, "Seriously, the Chudley Canons? Is your friend nuts?"

Harry stayed patiently outside and he could have sworn he could hear Aylish singing something that sounded like 'Help!' by the Beatles inside. He stood in the corridor which was like a wooden coffin, choking the light seeping into it, leaving only slithers of mesmerizing shadows dancing upon its dark surfaces. His mind still buzzed with thousands of queries which had yet to leave his tongue. Until, suddenly, Aylish burst from the room and stood before him.

"May I present to you, Mr Potter, your brand new bedroom. As improved by my own fair hands!" she said with a dramatic gesture. "Well, don't just stand there gawping at the door, it won't open itself you know. Go in!"

Harry, slightly apprehensively, forced the door open and held his breath. It was perfect! The walls were covered in a navy paint with a Golden Snitch or two rushing around them. The wooden floor was highly polished with a fluffy round white rug in the centre of the room. His bed was covered in a duvet bearing the Gryffindor crest (that was really the only team he supported). There were several bookcases filled with some of the most peculiar books that, Harry decided, he would have to investigate later. By the huge window was a table with three golden beanbags placed around it.

Harry wasn't used to having a room quite that big all to himself and it was so overwhelming. He plonked himself down on the bed and just looked around himself again.

"Wow…" was all that he could mutter (and he did so several times)… "Thank you so much. You really needn't have done all of this."

"Don't be daft. Besides, when your mother is a Transfiguration Professor, you get to learn things," Aylish said, tapping her nose. Harry laughed. Then, to his embarrassment, his stomach growled audibly. "What was that about you not being hungry?" Aylish quipped. "Don't worry; I won't cook it because, as Jack said, I'm a terrible cook!"

Harry had decided that he had just been welcomed into the most intriguing family he had ever come across (even the Weasleys) and he couldn't be happier.

~***********~

The pair went downstairs a while later and found Minerva in the living room, still reading to Lola and Lizzy, the latter of which was curled up in her grandmother's lap. Jack was lying by the magnificent fireplace with a cushion clamped over his face.

"'Why, Mary Ann,'" Minerva read, "'what _are_ you doing here?"

"But Alice isn't called Mary Ann!" Lizzy exclaimed.

"'Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick now!"

"He's not very polite for a rabbit, is he?" Lola asked.

"Since when have you known rabbits to be polite?" Jack mumbled through the cushion.

"Mum, sorry to interrupt," Aylish said. "You were cooking before you left to get Harry, right?"

"Yes…"

"Do you know how long it's been since then?"

"Huh… Oh. OH BUGGER!" Minerva rushed off out of the room, moving Lizzy onto the red sofa that they were sitting on.

The remaining occupants of the room sat laughing for a moment before Harry said:

"Is she always this… I don't know…"

"Nuts? Yep, pretty much!" replied Jack.

"JACK!" complained Aylish, throwing a spare cushion towards her son (ignoring his pleas of: "But it's _true_!"). "If you mean relaxed, Harry, yes she is." Harry thought he could get used to this place.

A minute later, a silvery patronus in the shape of a tabby cat appeared before them and said, in the voice of Minerva:

"Dinner's ready and served, so get a move on!" And just as quickly as it had appeared, the patronus vanished.

They all trundled along to the dining room, Harry lagging slightly behind looking at all the portraits of various witches and wizards lining the walls. The dining room, much like the rest of the house, was very spacious with a huge wooden table taking up the majority of it.

~**********~

After dinner Harry went on a bit of a roam around the house before retiring to his new bedroom. He discovered many old wizarding photographs of the whole family, a number of extra rooms, a cupboard containing several broomsticks and a Quidditch set, Minerva's personal library and stables which were home to several horses. Harry still couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to be in for a rather… interesting time.

Despite his whirring mind, as soon as Harry's head hit the pillow, he fell sound asleep.

_A/N: Next chapter: Questions answered… finally! Sorry it was a bit of a short chapter :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Okay, I know the poll said ADMM but I changed my mind! Don't hurt me!_

Chapter Four: Answers

Harry awoke the next morning, the smell of cooking drifting to his nostrils and teasing his stomach. He slipped out of bed and down the stairs whilst trying desperately to remember his way back to the dining room, for he knew it to be adjacent to the kitchen.

When he finally found the kitchen, he saw his Transfiguration Professor managing several saucepans over an oven, still wearing her ruby pyjamas, but she was not alone. A tall man with short brunette hair and a thick Scottish brogue had his arms around Minerva's waist and was whispering into her ear.

"Seriously, Zee, not now; I'll end up burning you," Minerva said.

"I'm sorry. I just can't resist my beautiful wife. And it just happens to be our anniversary," replied the man softly.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Zeke."

"Now, we both know that isn't true."

"Fair point," Minerva laughed and swivelled round in his arms.

"Where was I?" Zeke asked, planting a heated kiss on his wife's smiling lips. Harry, not wanting to intrude, was about to go back to his room when his Head of House turned her head and spotted him.

"Oh, good morning, Harry. I don't believe you've met my husband."

"Ah, Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you." The man, named Zeke, extended his hand towards Harry. Harry shook it pleasantly and took a seat at the dining table.

"I didn't know you were married, Professor."

"You never asked."

"We've been married fifty years today," explained Zeke.

"Don't say it like that. You make me feel old."

"Compared to me, my dear, you are the perfect spring chicken."

"Don't be stupid, you're only a year older than me," Minerva chuckled.

Harry felt extremely awkward in a contrast to the relaxed and homely atmosphere around the house. The days just kept getting stranger. However, at the mention of breakfast, Harry's mind completely lost the abnormality of the situation for a moment. He agreed, very gratefully, to a large plate of bacon and egg with toast.

~*~

When Harry had finished his breakfast, he turned to get dressed but was stopped in his tracks by the voice of Professor McGonagall:

"Harry! Can I talk to you when you're done getting ready?"

Harry agreed and started off towards his bedroom, wondering what on earth Minerva could want to discuss. He took a quick shower, polled on jeans and a blue t-shirt, and tried to avoid walking head-first into Aylish.

"Whoa, Harry! Watch out."

"What... oh, oh sorry, Aylish," he apologized absent-mindedly.

"No worries. Are- are you alright? You seem a bit..." she tailed off tactfully.

"I'm fine. Really." He continued down the hallway, stopping only to glimpse the marvellous cherry coloured sunrise outside of the window. There was a vague sound of chirruping in the background and a light scent of cinnamon.

When he finally found Minerva, she was sitting in a reception room looking over a brightly-covered book with Jack.

"Now, be careful with your pronunciation of the double 'l's. They can either make a 'y' or light 'j' sound," she was telling her grandson. Harry cleared his throat discreetly and Minerva saw him.

"Okay, Jack. Can you do me a favour and Floo call Alastor for me please?" Jack departed from the room silently. "Come and sit down, Harry."

Harry did as he was told and looked his mentor straight in the eyes.

"So, why are you teaching Jack Spanish?" Harry said in an attempt to punctuate the silence.

"He wants to come with me on a research trip in South America in the Christmas holidays. But, look, I know you need some answers. You're wondering why I took you in so readily, why I didn't reprove you over running away. Right?" She had definitely hit the nail on the head.

"Well, you need to know that I don't relate my past to your situation in any way and that I don't even think that it was anywhere near as bad as yours was. But there are similarities. On my fourteenth birthday I got pulled out of my Potions class to go and talk to Headmaster Dippet. He told me that – that both of my parents had been murdered by Grindelwald, the dark wizard of the age.

"So I was told that in the holidays I would return to my Uncle's home rather than my own. When the holidays came, I went back to live with him in Ireland and things were fine... at first. He got angry very quickly. One day I – I suppose he just snapped. He hit me one day and he even locked me in the cupboard under the stairs.

"And that was that; I'd had enough. I let my temper get the better of me and the door to the cupboard got blasted off from my accidental magic. Then I just left. I had no idea where I was going. But anywhere had to be better than there.

"I found my way to a friend's house. Well, I say that I found my way there, I had to walk three miles to get to his house in Dublin. Anyway, his mother arranged for me to stay with the two of them for a few days and then portkey to Hogwarts."

"But, why couldn't you live with your brothers?" asked Harry, remembering the twin siblings that she had mentioned the previous day.

"They were living in Romania at the time and they were only nineteen themselves. They couldn't have coped.

"Well, when I got back to Hogwarts, I got talking to Professor Dumbledore about the recent events and he listened. He told me that I was right to leave and that everything would be alright. Then he shocked me. He offered to adopt me; it would mean staying in school through the holidays (apart from summer) but it was brilliant. So, I became Albus Dumbledore's adoptive daughter, not that anyone else barring the Minister at the time knew."

"Wow, so you're... wow..." Harry was too stunned to really form any coherent sentences.

There was silence for a while.

"Professor – Minerva... can I ask, why are you so... different at home?" To tell the truth, he felt a little impertinent asking that particular question. Minerva thankfully did not look at all affronted.

"I behave so differently at home than in school, Harry, because I am so much more relaxed and because I know what it's like to feel like a prisoner in your own home. I would never wish that on anybody, let alone my own family. But school is there for your education, which is a very important tool. I am strict in school because I _need_ to be. If you lot fail, I fail. Do you see what I mean? I care about you all too much to let you waste it and believe me, without rules, you will. The school keeps you safe, Harry, but here... Zeke and I are the only ones keeping this barrier up. We have to be happy or... or we'll never be able to keep everybody together. Do you see? I love my family too much to let them suffer through misery. Home is a sanctuary, Harry. Home is where the heart is."

_A/N: I really do apologize for the copious amount of dialogue and sadness in this chapter but it should be back to enjoyment for the next instalment. _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Okay, back for some fun because I've just rediscovered this story! YAY! I am so, so sorry for the vast delay with this story it's just that I really had no idea how to continue with it. But, if anybody is still interested in reading it, I would be eternally grateful._

* * *

Feeling a newly-formed affinity for his Head of House, Harry made to leave Minerva in peace. Knowingly how intensely private she could be – especially when it came to her private life – Harry decided that she probably would appreciate some space; she was much like him in that way. However, he had not managed to move two steps away from her when a loud barking could be heard echoing around the hallway. There was a swift padding on the wooden floor. It was coming closer.

"Alastor Moody, keep your bloody mutt under control!" Minerva appeared at Harry's shoulder, a mask of mock anger over her face.

"Only if you keep your claws in and control the hairballs!" came the familiar growl.

"We have discussed this: I do NOT get hairballs!"

A second later, a chuckling – yes, 'chuckling' - Alastor Moody appeared around the corner while a lively golden retriever bounded towards Harry and Minerva. Mad-Eye seemed rather surprised to find Harry in the house as he exclaimed:

"What's he doing here?" _Charming!_

"I'll explain later. I've got that paperwork you wanted by the way," replied Minerva, turning back to a small wooden end table littered with documents and pushing her square spectacles further up the bridge of her nose.

Harry stayed stock-still while trying to avoid Alastor's bright magical eye. There were several loud thuds as Mad-Eye, leaning heavily on his gnarled walking stick, shuffled further into the room.

"Alastor, stop staring. You've seen the boy before and he's no threat to security," Minerva said without even looking up from the papers.

Mad-Eye let out a hearty laugh and shuffled further into the room. "Anyone would think you were the one with the magical eye, the way you're going."

Now it was Minerva's turn to chuckle. "If only, Al. If only. Maybe if I did, the kiddies would behave better."

"Either that or you could try being Professor McGonagall rather than 'Granny' or whatever hideous name you've concocted for yourself at home." Mad-Eye then lowered his voice to a low mutter. "'Kiddies'? What have you eaten?"

"I could give you a complete list of what has passed my lip for the last week, Alastor, but I doubt that it would make for very interesting reading." When Mad-Eye turned both eyes questioningly upon her, Minerva simply smiled and turned away, shuffling some of the papers around the small table. "My eyesight may not be the best, Alastor, but I would have thought that you would know by now that my hearing is perfectly adequate."

Harry was unsure of where to insert himself within the conversation so he simply settled for sinking into the overly-soft armchair at the other end of the room. He had no escape route for the minute as Mad-Eye's giant golden retriever was rolling its fluffy body against the carpet directly in front of the closed door. It was funny how this furry, soppy dog could pull painful images of another into his mind.

A scrawny, bear-like black dog.

"Potter," Mad-Eye's voice picked him out of his reverie. There was a strange look on his gnarled face; searching, yet encouraging and… was that _pity_? Along with these, something that reminded Harry of his Head of House when they had won the Quidditch cup. "You did good."

No questioning was needed. Harry knew exactly what he was talking about.

The Ministry. The day he had lost everything. Or so he thought. The day Sirius had left him. They had only just started to straighten things out. They would be so happy together at Grimmauld Place. Harry would finally have a home, a family, and Sirius would finally be free (as far as possible, at any rate). But that… that was gone now. As much as he had tried to keep such terrible memories and thoughts from breaching his mind, Harry could suddenly avoid them no longer.

"Excuse me," he said vaguely, heading once more towards the door.

"Granny?" a small voice called as it opened the door a crack.

At the sound of the new voice in the room, the dog jumped up and bounded across the room, almost knocking over the lamp in the corner. It pounced on Minerva as she turned towards the source of the little voice.

"Down!" she spluttered as the dog assaulted her face with its tongue. "Alastor!" Mad-Eye made no move to take the dog away, opting instead to restart his round of hearty laughter. He was probably the only man on the planet who would risk such behaviour and Harry did not envy him; he would be slain just as soon as Minerva could remove the dog, which seemed to have a sticking charm on his paws, from her face. "Moody!"

"Harry!" The small voice from the other side of the door revealed itself to be Lizzy, who was wearing a pretty lime green summer dress. She silently motioned for him to vacate the room. Harry needed no more invitation than that.

Once in the refreshingly cool corridor, Lizzy grabbed Harry's hand and – with surprising strength in her little body – pulled him off towards the front door. As they progressed, Minerva's bellowing and Alastor's laughing grew less pronounced up to the point when they were no longer audible.

"Where are we going, Lizzy?" Harry asked, previous unhappy thoughts supressed quickly by his unwilling mind and the little girl's persistence.

"Outside, silly," she replied as if that should have been obvious from the start.

The cool Scottish breeze hit Harry's skin like a branch of the Whomping Willow and flooded his lungs in great, rushing gusts. A smile pulled at his cheeks as he looked out across the wild Highlands. This feeling, after all that had happened in the last few months, was as natural as breathing to Harry and only now did he truly realise how much he had missed it, the freedom of it. To just walk into the face of the wind and feel its cold caress. It was a much-needed sensation.

"Harry!" Jack's deep voice reached Harry's ears as he turned to find the boy himself walking behind him.

"Hi Jack. What's up?"

"I figured you could do with a bit of a fly about since… erm…" Harry could tell he was going to say _'Sirius'_, but he caught himself. "Since Gran is so determined to win the Quidditch cup again."

For a moment, Harry was not certain how to respond. Upon seeing both Jack's and little Lizzy's imploring looks, however, he asked: "I don't suppose you have a snitch lying about, do you?"

Jack's face broke out into a bright grin.

A mere five minutes later, the two boys were soaring high above the verdant land below. Harry swooped just low enough to just ruffle Lizzy's hair with his hand as she picked a thistle from the ground. She giggled with delight as she realised what he had done. Harry sighed. What a glorious thing, to be flying again. Harry decided that his skills as a Seeker could do with a little refining.


End file.
